


Parking Spot

by fat_coffee_mugs



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:24:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6245080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fat_coffee_mugs/pseuds/fat_coffee_mugs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her co-workers had witnessed (and in some cases, become victimized by,) enough of her morning habits to have a unanimously, silently agreed on rule- don't pick a fight with Cana in the morning. Sadly, an obstacle interrupted the peace every once in a while. These past three days, the particular obstacle sticking a pole up her ass had been the black BMW parked unswaying in her parking spot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parking Spot

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry this is so crappy  
> i dont even write fic anymore i dont know what im doing

“Look Wendy! This is where I sit every day, and-- oh look! That’s where I put all my pens. Do you want to play with one of the pens?”

Cana glanced up from her desk with a furrow to her brow. It wasn’t bring your child to work day, but Levy McGarden had brought in her four year old look-alike to the office anyway, currently weaving through the cubicles of the fourth floor with the little girl’s left hand clasped tightly in hers. Cana’s eye began to twitch as the little girl blabbered excitedly at the apparently _fascinating_ pens on her mother’s desk and then proceeded to scream when she noticed one of them had a fucking _feather_ on it, would you ever believe it a _fucking feather_ on a _fucking pen fucking unbelievable_.

The brunette exhaled heavily through her nose.

Shocking as it was, Cana was not a morning person.

Maybe it was because she happened to spend more than a few mornings hungover from a previous night of drinking herself cold, or maybe it was because her bedroom windows faced the east and she woke up to an eye full of nauseating sunlight every single goddamn day-- there was no one way to narrow it down. The point was that she simply detested the early hours, and anyone to bother her then would probably receive a vile look or the inquisition of whether or they would like to, quote un quote “fight me in this shitty ass coffee room _right fucking now_.”

It was common knowledge among her co-workers over in Fairy Tail Inc-- an internationally known children’s books publishing company with a tiny branch located in Magnolia, Fiore. They had witnessed (and in some cases, become victimized by,) enough of her daily unpleasant behavior to have a unanimously, silently agreed on rule-- don’t pick a fight with Cana in the morning.

And this melded well with Cana. She could get through most mornings with the totally standard three cups of beer-infused black coffee and eyes glued to the paperwork in front of her.

Emphasis on the word _most_.

Every once and while an _obstacle_ would disrupt her routine, be it a newbie oblivious to the ways of the office or a broken copier that incidentally couldn’t be fixed with a sharp kick to the side. These past three days, though, the particular obstacle sticking a pole up her ass had been the black BMW parked unswaying in _her_ parking spot.

She’d tried a few reasonable methods-- showing up to work an hour early, lingering around the spot for a while at the end of the day, but to no avail. It was like someone had just _left_ it there, and wasn’t planning on picking it up for the next decade or so.

And the thing was, Cana _liked_ her spot. It was right next to this particularly nice looking patch of marigolds that she dumped cold coffee in every once and a while, and wasn’t even that long of a walk to the front door.

Ever since the anonymous asshole had parked her spot, she’d been forced to use the _only_ other spot available in the lot-- the one right next to the dumpster, at the very back. It was literally a _four_ minute walk just to get across the god forsaken lot, usually spent cursing whoever drove the car that was probably worth her entire life salary.

Levy approached her desk then, interrupting her brooding. Behind her her kid’s eyes were still darting around the room at record speed. “Cana! Look, Wendy, this is Cana. Say hi to Cana!” The girl stopped a little ways behind her mother, suddenly shy in the gaze of the taller woman peering at her from her slumped over position at the desk. The girl managed a timid wave.

Cana turned to Levy, managing to stifle her groan and keep her voice somewhat pleasant. “Hey there… what’d you call her again?”

“Wendy. Her name’s Wendy.” Levy pursed her lips as the brunette leaned over in her chair to try and catch a better look of the girl’s face, watching as the girl stiffened under the examination. After a few moments of silent prodding, Cana turned back to the petite receptionist once more.

“Real cutie. You sure this is Gajeel’s brat?”

Levy gasped an overly scandalous gasp, one hand flying to her mouth, the other pushing her daughter further behind her legs. “Cana!”

“Shit, sorry I guess--”

Levy’s cheeks puffed out. “Language, Cana!”

“Oh fuck--”

Levy’s eyes were ablaze and her next words came out strained. “Wendy! Honey! Go find daddy, okay sweetie? You remember where I showed you he was?” Cana barely made out the slight bob of a blue head before she was darting the other way, a barely concealed trail of giggles following in her stead.

“Nice kid you got there, McGarden,” the brunette commented half-truthfully, immediately attempting to swivel her chair back to her work. Levy had none of it, gripping the seat with uncharacteristic strength and yanking it to face her again. Her hands were balled on her hips, face pink and demanding an apology. As the bluenette stared her down with all 5 feet of righteous fury, Cana stifled the groan that she’d even taken the effort to befriend any of her colleagues.

Cana threw her hands up in a sort of surrender, throwing out an “Alright, I’m sorry, calm your tits”. Levy’s frown deepened. “It’s too early for censorship. The kid’s probably heard worse living with Redfox, anyway,” she huffed, feeling like she was receiving a lecture from her late mother.

“He doesn’t...” Levy’s anger dimmed a little, unable to find a counter argument. “Still.” Her cheeks blew out a little, settling for a mildly displeased, mildly curious expression aimed at her friend. She took the risk that many would cringe at of landing her butt at the corner of Cana’s desk, dangerously close to her cup of beer-coffee.

“Can we-- can you lay off it? I’m not in the mood,” Cana grumbled, fingers creeping up to work at her temple.

A head of platinum silver suddenly popped up from over the thin wall of her cubicle, much to Cana’s displeasure. “Cana? Not in the mood? My, my, however could this have happened?”

“Fuck _off_ , Mira,” Cana groaned, ducking her head.

Levy tapped a single finger to her rounded lips, anger apparently vanishing as the prospect of investigating her friend popped up. “You know, Mira, you might have a point. It’s Friday. She’s never this grumpy on Friday mornings.”

Mirajane hummed in agreement, folding her arms and making herself comfortable on the narrow divider. “So Cana, what’s special today? Someone in particular raining on your parade?” Cana cringed when a dangerous glint appeared in her eye. “Or is someone in _amour_?”

“Did someone say armor?” Cana let out an exaggerated groan when Erza Scarlet appeared above the other side of the cubicle, eyebrows already risen.

She raised her voice. “The hell is this, some kind of fucking club?”

Erza only frowned, looking down at Cana in a genuinely disapproving manner that might have been funny in different circumstances. “That’s not funny at all, Cana. Armor is an art form.”

“Did she really just hear _amour_ as armor?”

“Erza! How was yesterday’s date night?”

“Hello, Mira. It went fine actually-- Jellal _really_ liked that dress you picked out.”

Mirajane clasped her hands together, squealing. “I _knew_ he would!”

“Oh and Levy, is that your girl running around the office? I just saw her--”

“--did you? Yeah, she wanted to come see Gajeel, he’s been working late hours again.”

“She’s quite adorable too--”

“--not at all like Gajeel, right? I’m not the only one thinking that?”

Cana rose her head and shut her eyes in a silent prayer, smack dab in the center of the impromptu pool of small talk. “I’m gonna stab myself,” she muttered to no one in particular.

Erza’s attention was reverted to the brunette once more at the barely audible comment. “You seem more unpleasant than usual, Cana.” A few nameless colleagues loitering nearby inched away as a feral growl emitted from the other woman’s throat, but if Erza noticed it, it didn’t show. “Are you having your time of the year again?”

“What.”

Mirajane leaned further forward, eyes shining demonically. “Is it a guy?” Cana snorted.

“Is it the new boss?” Levy whispered, suddenly curious.

Cana rose a incredulous brow. “Makarov’s new kid? What’s that got to do with me?”

“You probably shouldn’t call him a kid, Cana,” Levy told her somewhat chidingly. “He’s your _boss_ now.”

Mirajane let out a low whistle. “He certainly hasn’t got the _body_ of a kid, either…”

“Mirajane!”

“What? I know you saw him too, Erza!”

“This isn’t about the boss!” Cana finally exclaimed, worn down by the three women around her. “It’s about my parking spot.”

A disappointing silence ensued and Cana resisted the urge to look away as Levy stared directly at her. “...Your parking spot.”

Cana sighed. “Look, for the past like, three days this fancy BMW has been in _my_ spot in the lot. It literally hasn’t moved in _three_ days.”

Levy’s response was deadpan. “You cursed in front of my four year-old daughter because someone took your _parking spot_.”

Erza’s eyebrows receded into her hairline, and Mirajane perked up at the sight. “You cursed in front of _Wendy_?”

“You don’t understand!” It came out as a whine, and when she got blank looks from the other girls she quickly continued. “The only other parking spot’s in the literal _ass_ of the parking lot.”

At this, Levy and the others winced. “Ohh, I know which one you’re talking about. I’ve been there a few times,” the blue haired woman related, giving her a pitying look.

Mirajane nodded sympathetically. “Same.”

“Why don’t you just leave a note?” Erza asked, idly leaning further over the wall. Her hair draped casually across Cana’s array of post it notes, but Cana was past the stage of finding it irritating. Instead she barely registered the movement, brain whirring slightly at the suggestion.

“Because, I--” Cana paused, then bit her lip. “I can’t just--” Erza gave her an unimpressed look. “... My handwriting sucks?”

Erza sighed, then disappeared from the wall, apparently finished with her co-worker. Cana subtly registered Mirajane chiming a small farewell before following the redhead’s lead, and then it was just Levy sitting beside her, her presence much more welcome than it was only minutes ago.

“Have you seriously never left a note?” Levy asked, bending over to give Cana an disbelieving look.

The brunette’s fingers pulled unconsciously at the fabric of her blouse. “I confront people. I don’t _do_ notes,” Cana argued, but even she could tell her tone wasn’t very convincing.

“I’d suggest you start,” Levy advised, before proceeding to move from from her position on the desk, wiping invisible dust off her skirt. “Whelp, I’ve gotta track down Wendy before someone else finds her, good luck with your BMW guy.”

Cana watched her retreating back for a few seconds before turning a weary head back to her desk. She still had the expense reports she had to hand in by tomorrow morning lying on in front of her, and her neglected beer-coffee had long gone cold. She threw her head forward in a sort of defeated groan, but stopped it an inch before it hit the wood. With her head still down, she reached for a shamefully across the desk for a yellow post it and pen.

\---------

Cana stared down at the smooth black hood of the BMW before her.

It stared back.

She really _wasn’t_ a note kind of person. It was so passive aggressive-- she just wanted to _see_ the driver already so she could give them an earful of complaints or, if they was unimportant enough, a fistful of… fists. 

Was it too late to just spit on it?

The dark tinted glass of the windshield gave her a clear reflection of herself, the interior invisible. She let out a dry huff of air, shivering in her place. It was nearly a quarter after six-- she’d stayed a bit later than usual, just as a last go at catching BMW guy (she’d liked Levy’s nickname) in the act.

The meticulously written and rewritten note was considerably brief for the nearly thirty minutes it took to compose it, especially for the pride she’d had to sacrifice asking for Erza’s help halfway through. It felt sharp and powerful in her hands, like a time bomb she need only decide to set off. It was, she hoped, terse enough to get her irritation across. “ _This has been my parking spot for two years. Get out or meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning._ ” Cana cursed as she registered the tightening of her fist around the yellow paper, unclenching her fist just as quickly. She hastily smoothed out the now apparent wrinkle. 

How long had she been standing here? Ten minutes? Longer? She felt more and more idiotic as she did, and finally stalked forward, moving around the car to wedge the paper between the windshield wiper and the glass. She stared at it for a few seconds before spitting out a bitter “ _Damn millionaires_ ” in conclusion and turning swiftly on her heel. 

She was about five steps away from the lot when a low voice made her pause. “Billionaire, actually.”

Cana slowly turned 180 degrees in her spot till she was facing the car once more, this time seeing a man leaning against the side of the smooth black door. She vaguely wondered why a car expensive as that wasn’t triggering an alarm with a stranger leaning against it. She was more focused on the man himself though. He was tall, and heavily muscled, his short crop of bright yellow hair moving lightly in the breeze. He was also extremely handsome, she discerned silently. He flashed her a raise of the brow, as if accusing her of the way she was openly staring at him, but to no response. 

She finally noted the thick, long coat the color of grapes surrounding him, his hands stuffed within. She snorted a bit at this attire, crossing her arms.

“How long you been standing there, Joker?”

Much to her disappointment, he didn’t back down as she had expected. Instead he took a long stride forward ( _Damn, he really was tall,_ ) and let his coat swish gently behind him. “Sitting actually. I was in my car.” When she failed to make the connection, he turned halfway and gestured to the BMW, speaking slowly as if to a child. “My _car_.”

It took a moment before Cana felt her jaw drop slightly. “You were _in there_?” She sputtered. “I stood in front of it for like _ten minutes_.”

He nodded, a vaguely amused expression on his face at her reaction. “That’s true.”

“I left a note.”

“You did.”

“Did you _read_ it?” Cana could feel herself grow more frustrated by the minute. She didn’t notice when her her hands uncrossed and formed balls at her side, but he did.

He smirked a little, raising his fingers where the wrinkled yellow post-it was gripped. “ _Get out or meet me in the parking lot._ Damn, shivers running down my spine right now,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve been there two years!” She finally burst, taking a few large steps till they were barely a foot apart, the shock on his face going unnoticed by her. She cursed the way she had to tilt her head up to maintain her glare, cursed the fact that he seemed almost totally undisturbed by her rage. “I’m not about to let some rich little pretty boy take it for no reason! _Do you even work here_?”

“Just started,” he replied shortly, staring at her strangely. He had something in his expression she couldn’t quite decipher, but the way he was examining her face with more curiosity than cruelness told her she didn’t want to know.

She finally yelled to herself in some kind of raw expression of frustration. Her face was directly in front of his and her eyes blazed when she hissed dangerously at him. “Who the _fuck do you think you are?_ ”

A grin. She wanted to scream as his face split in what could definitely be described as a shit-eating grin. “Laxus Dreyar. New manager of Fairy Tail Inc.’s Magnolia branch. It’s a pleasure.”

Cana’s mouth snapped shut. She opened it slightly as if to say something, but it closed again. At last she shut her eyes in silent acceptance and the frustration lines in her forehead smoothed out. “You’re Makarov’s kid,” she finally said, her voice eerily calm.

“That would be me, yes.”

“And I just called you an pretty boy and… yelled at you about a parking spot.”

“Both true.”

Cana took the much needed step back, keeping her at a distance where she could pretend she wasn’t about to be fired. The illusion didn’t work. “I’m so fuckin’ fired.”

Laxus raised a brow. “Wait, I didn’t m--”

“So fucking fired. Karma’s actually real. The shit that comes out of Erza’s mouth is actually true.”

“I’m not going to fi--”

Cana blindly waved her hands around herself in some kind of representation of her dismay, ignoring her boss’s constant interruptions. “I shouldn’t of cursed in front of McGarden’s brat, now I actually have to find another _actual job_ \--”

“ _Look_ \--”

“--find a new fucking job, as if that’s gonna happ--” The unexpectedness of it made it easier when Cana’s word’s were quickly silenced and a large hand warm from their place in purple coat’s pockets clamped over her mouth. Another seized one of her flying wrists and held it in place. An unusually large flush spread over her cheeks. She was admittedly grateful when he began speaking again, seeming not to notice her blush.

“I’m not gonna fire you, and I’m not gonna steal your spot.” His hand didn’t move. “ _If_ you can agree to three conditions.” When a few seconds passed and she made no move against him, he released her hand and dropped his hand from her mouth.

Cana ignored the obnoxious tingle she could still feel where his skin had touched hers, trying and failing to calm her stuttering heart. This wasn’t normal-- she didn’t get this easily flustered, and yet…

“Are you blushing?” he asked, peering down at her in mild surprise.

The usually brazen woman could only avoid his eyes with a pang of shame, internally suggesting any gene in her that made her blush go straight to hell. “What’re the conditions,” she managed to say flatly.

“... One, I get Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays.”

She scoffed. “You’re insane if you think I’m walking across the lot on a Monday morning.”

He raised a brow. “Okay… I get Fridays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays.”

“Okay.”

“Two, you get Mondays and Thursdays.”

“Okay.”

“Three, you go out to drinks with me.”

“Okay.” Cana froze a moment after. Her cheeks flushed. “Wait--”

He grinned at air, already turning and walking away to get into his shiny car, leaving her gawking in place. “Tomorrow morning good?”

She was momentarily distracted. “...You want to get drinks with me on a Wednesday morning?”

“What’s the worse that could happen? Your boss fires you?”

Her jaw dropped further as she had to stumble back to keep from getting run over, his exit from the spot smooth and swift. She watched as the car sped down the lot’s length and onto the main road, standing in a hazy trance. 

She blinked quickly as a she heard her name called from behind her, turning slowly to see Levy with her daughter plodding along next to her. Upon noticing the blank look on her friend’s face, the bluenette immediately tilted her head. “Cana? Is something wrong?”

Cana took a moment before responding, her head spinning. “I… I think I’m in armor.”


End file.
